


The Process Of Repair

by TwistedViolets



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Bathing, Brotherly Bonding, Eventual incesty themes, Hand Jobs, Incest is heavily frowned upon, Klaus centric, Klaus is unable to speak, Klaus’s Accident may not be an accident, Liquid Diets, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Over protectiveness, Possessive Behavior, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Training, pinning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/TwistedViolets
Summary: Klaus wakes up with a brace around his jaw and a pounding headache. He doesn't really remember much from the accident other than he was wearing his mother's heels and playing way too close to the staircase.Diego takes his injury personally.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 7
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oops I fell back into the trap of gross things haven’t I? I got too caught up in the idea that Klaus’s accident wasn’t an accident and I do not regret it. There isn’t any noncon in this chapter but it’s not too far into the future...
> 
> It’ll probably be sad because honestly most of it is Diego just trying to be a good brother but being so caught up in his own guilty conscience that he does things he doesn’t mean.

The infirmary lights blind him and he just can't seem to see anything past the black lights that engulf his vision. No matter where he looks all he can see is black blobs and ghastly shapes. 

There's mumbling from people he can't see or perhaps don't even exist in this plane. He isn't sure because he can't see and he can't even twist his head. 

He can't speak, he can't tell anyone that he's scared. The room is getting smaller and smaller around him, the air is being stifled and he's being forced to grasp for oxygen although he quickly realizes he can’t. His lungs struggle to take in oxygen and he can’t stop his heart from crawling up his throat.

The lights flicker off and he breathes in as a pain radiate from each little twitch of his jaw. It hurts, he can't seem to move his face and breathing is a chore.

"Klaus," a hand is placed on his hand, holding it tightly. "You're okay now," Diego tells him, squeezing his hand and calming his heart.

"Do you know what happened?" His brother asks as he caresses his palm with his soft fingertips. "You tripped and fell down the stairs," his voice is soft and methodical. "Ben tried to tell you wearing heels wasn't a good idea..."

He stares, unable to make any noises due to the pain it causes when his jaw moves. There's a device, a brace he imagines that completely surrounds his jaw that keeps it secured to the rest of him.

He swallows and his mouth seems so dry but he can't voice this to his brother at all. 

His brother extends a hand towards him. "Do you think you're able to sit up?" He takes the hand and his brother pulls, hard. He sits upright and has to grab his head because it swirls. The floor, the walls, they all seem to be crawling.

"Don't worry, you’ll be better in a few weeks. The liquid diet is going to be the worse part for you." His brother starts to chuckle before stopping, he looks away shamefully. "Sorry-"

He shakes his head.

"Mother will-will bring you medicine every afternoon," he stutters a little as he helps him get off the infirmary bed.

He is listening, he is really, at least he's trying but he can't really comprehend it because his head is pounding. He's unsteady in his feet but his brother sees that. The slow, sloppy movements his feet make. So Diego wraps a hand around his back and guides him out. 

Moonlight trickles in through the windows and lays against the floor in little stripes as they walk. Silence and cold seep up through the wooden floors. His brother's face is barely illuminated and all he can see is his eyes.

They stare lifelessly ahead while he grasps his back with a harsh but gentle grip. It all gives him a sense of dread he can't fight. Like something is wrong with this picture but he doesn't know what it is.

He wants to speak but can't. He has thoughts and feelings he would usually voice with any care but now he can't even say that he has to pee or his mouth is dry.

"It's going to be fine," His brother whispers to him as their rooms come into view. "I'll be here to take care of you." He says as he opens the door to his bedroom.

He helps him into bed. He even tucks him in and gives his forehead a kiss. Which he glares at his brother for because he isn't a little kid and he really doesn't appreciate the teasing.

His brother just smiles and gives him a pat on the head. "I was worried I lost you..." his voice trembles as he speaks. "I found you bloody and unconscious at the bottom of the staircase...what was I supposed to think?" 

Diego's eyes glass over but he quickly looks away. "I should have kept a better eye on you...I won't make that mistake again."

He makes a noise of disapproval, one that causes him to clench his eyes at the pain that follows. Whatever medicine he's on must be wearing off and it sucks.

His brother is talking crazy. This is nothing but a childish accident...it's nothing to take so hard to heart but Diego is for some reason. He shouldn't, he wants to tell him that he doesn't need to waste his worry on him but he can't. He can't say a single thing to ease his brother's worrying.

This is all his fault. He was the one who pranced around in heels. He was the one who decided to play next to the stairs. He was the one, him and him alone who stupidly tripped down the stairs. He lived, he learned not to do it again.

There isn't a need for his brother to declare such a thing.

Diego stands and walks out of the room, leaving the door ajar. He watches him go, watches the way his shoulders aren't puffed out like usual. He doesn't have any of that usual confidence or "manly" presence.

His brother just looks like a child who's toy has been broken. He wonders if he's that toy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day...it’s more likely than you think. I had more freetime today than I thought I’d have so enjoy this treat. <3
> 
> I’ll back tonight to look this over so I apologize if there are any typos.

He wakes up to a bell ringing in his ear and his father's harsh voice telling him how much of a disappointment he is. He isn't sure what his father expected to come of this, seeing as he can't reply to the lecture. His father doesn't seem to care.

It's long and he just looks away in shame because it's all true. He really is an idiot, a disappointment, a bumbling boy who fancies female items too much. He really is all of that and more which is why he doesn't fight it.

His father throws a small flip notebook in his lap when he's done speaking. "Use this to communicate for now and come down to breakfast. Your mother is already preparing your meal." His father walks out of the room, only stopping briefly to give him another piece of advice to lower his self-esteem.

"Just because you're injured doesn't mean you won't be training."

His father keeps walking, letting those words hang in the open air. He curses himself and his father and the world. He curses everything he can as he gets up and walks slowly but steadily to the bathroom.

His legs ache and his ankle hurts every time he moves it the wrong direction. He probably bruised a bone or two. Wonderful, it's absolutely wonderful.

He closes the door behind him and licks around the inside his mouth in an attempt to wet it but it does nothing. He pushes down his pajama bottoms and pees, relief radiates from his lower stomach. His bladder aches as it empties and he sighs.

The door creaks behind him and he tenses. It isn't exactly out of the ordinary considering he has six siblings but it is out of the ordinary not to receive a 'sorry' or a 'just grabbing a towel.' Sometimes Luther will pop in just to get his toothbrush.

They are never silent about it.

He turns his head and is greeted by the door left ajar. No one is there. It's strange but he tries his best to shrug it off.

————————————————————

He goes to breakfast after he gets dressed. Which was a harder task then he anticipated. The brace around his jaw is hard and doesn't bend at all so he could barely take off his pajama top let alone put on his stiff suit.

He's just lucky Diego was late to breakfast too and actually stopped to listen to his stupid notebook rambling. It took a lot of effort and his brother was snarky about it. It gave him relief though because Diego was acting strangely last night.

He sits down at the dinner table and everyone is already waiting. His father gives him a glare because he's late but otherwise stays quiet. There is no speaking at the table, only the man on the record player gets to talk. Which is boring...even on good days.

A foreign noise starts to come from the kitchen and he looks over in concern. He strains his jaw and neck but it's a very jarring sound. It's the blender, that object has been collecting dust ever since he can remember.

He turns back around and rubs his neck. He gets mixed looks of disapproval, concern, and plain 'you're an idiot' from his many siblings. It's to be expected he knows...after all they had pretty much said the whole wearing heels thing was a bad idea.

Did he listen? No, no he didn't.

His mother comes over with a cup containing a brownish substance with a red straw inside. "Heres breakfast sweetie," she coos, leaning down and giving him a smile. "Do you need help?"

He shakes his head and raises the straw to his mouth and opens it, a tiny bit. He tenses up in pain, a zap of electricity shoots down his body from the action. She places a hand on his back and shushes him. "It's okay," she whispers to him. "You're doing just fine, take your time sweetie."

He tries again, he gets the straw in his mouth and sucks. The substance is cold and tastes absolutely disgusting. It's like milk with a sour taste of bacon. He scrunches his nose up in disgust and she leans in closer. 

"Sorry sweetie, it's going to taste bad for now. It has medicine grounded up into it for your pain."

He nods and keeps drinking although each sip makes his stomach churn.

————————————————————

His father makes him hold a target for Diego to throw at. He isn't afraid, nor does he really care but his brother looks at him with such apologetic eyes that he just feels bad.

He trusts his brother fully and yet his brother doesn't seem to trust himself.

"Number Two, how long are you planning on taking?" His father's voice is harsh and Diego is so brittle.

A cold wind blows past him and he shivers as he holds the target out in front of him. If his brother threw a little to the left or right it'd go right into his side.

Little snowflakes begin to fall and the backyard seems to groan. Diego raises his hand with a blade inside. He takes a deep breath and stares the target down.

He swallows roughly and tries to give his brother a reinsuring smile but it hurts too much so he stops. The knife is thrown and he braces the wooden target.

He hears the bang and feels the impact of the knife into the wood. He sighs internally from relief and his brother does the same.

"An adequate performance," their father notes with indifference as he pulls out his journal and writes something inside.

————————————————————

Diego looks him over once they're done, like he somehow magically got hurt. Which he didn't, he's fine, completely. "That was ridiculous!" Diego tells him, hitting his bed with pent up anger. "I could have hurt you!" 

He scribbles on his notebook before raising it to Diego. "But you didn't," it reads in messy handwriting. Diego grinds his teeth and looks away.

"So? That isn't the point!"

He rolls his eyes and stands up as he scribbles on his notebook. "Getting bath," he tells his brother.

"By yourself? That's too dangerous! What if you fell and you couldn't call for help?"

He rolls his eyes again.

"I'll be fine. I'm a big boy," he writes back before tossing his notebook on his nightstand. He walks to the bathroom with his brother up his backside.

"This isn't safe," His brother mumbles underneath his breath along with a series of "stupid, ridiculous, you're overthinking it." He isn't sure if Diego is talking to himself or him. Either way, it's unnerving and unnecessary.

He makes it to the bathroom and isn't all that surprised when Diego wanders in behind him. He stares at his brother with disapproval but is only met with concern, which he supposed is justified.

He tries to ignore the eyes that watch him while he plugs the bathtub and starts the water. Hot and steaming, just how he likes it. Each time he places his hand under the stream it burns and he relaxes. 

His brother turns the cold water on.

He glares and turns it off.

Diego looks away and doesn't touch the knobs again. He wishes he kept his notebook because he wants to tell his brother to get lost. Instead, he just pushes his brother out the door and ignores all his protests.

He looks in the mirror after it quiets down. He runs a hand along the brace, figuring there must be some way to remove it. He finds a little lock along the backside that he figures does just that. He doesn't remove it though since he isn't sure if that's a good idea.

He'll just forgo washing his hair today. It's fine, it isn't like he's dirty anyway.

He starts to strip, one piece of clothing at a time as his skin starts to breathe again. He pours a little shampoo in the bathtub and watches as the tub fills with small pink bubbles. 

He is happy, calm, and collected. It's starting to eat at him a little that he can't let his mouth run like he used to. He took the ability to speak for granted and he knows when he's able to again he'll never stop talking. 

He laughs to himself, inside his mind as he dips a toe in the bath. It's hot and burns in all the right ways. So he sticks both feet in and then bends down allowing his body to slowly sink in the steaming paradise.

He relaxes and simply lets the bubbles swim around him as he breathes slowly. He feels good, so good that he's sure that it's different. Not normal at all...like maybe this is how being medicated feels.

Suddenly he doesn't care, suddenly his pain is gone, suddenly the room is silent and no phantoms haunt him.

Drugs are amazing.

He opens his eyes and is greeted by Diego, sitting silently at the side of the bathtub. He jumps and water splashes out of the bath and dampens the floor and Diego's shirt. His brother just places a hand on his cheek and shushes him.

"What's wrong?"

This. Everything about this.

"I didn't mean to startle you...I was just concerned," his brother sounds sincere and it forces him to calm. He shakes his head as he bats his brother's hand away.

He lays back down and stares at the ceiling in anger he can't speak. He wants to tell to get lost or how creepy it was to just pop up out of nowhere. He can't and eventually he just accepts that it's caring.

His brother is just worried about him and it feels nice in a way. Diego never really cared for him before. How many times has Diego hit him or slapped him or yelled at him? This is a nice change of pace.

He stops glaring holes at the ceiling and simply tries his best to relax. His brother sits down beside the tub and leans against it. He is facing away with his head on his knees. 

An eerie buzzing is all that he hears aside from his own heartbeat.

————————————————————

He stays in the bath until the bubbles are almost completely gone and the water has gone frozen. "You're going to catch a cold," His brother told him with his arms crossed. "You're getting out," Diego informed him with a glare.

He didn't fight it.

He stood as his brother retrieved a towel then proceeded the wrap it around him like he was a child. He wishes he could tell him to stop treating him like he's three.

Diego even walks him back to his room as if he's concerned he might fall on the way. He ignores it and allows his brother to coddle him.

For once, it actually feels good. No one ever cares about him this much...maybe that's why it seems so unnatural to him.

Once he's back in a suit he dries his hair and Diego throws it in the laundry basket. "Dad is a dick," Diego mumbles, without saying anything else.

He shrugs and eyes up his notebook but decides not to. "He's always preaching this and that but you're injured right now. He shouldn't make you go outside in the cold or force you to hold a target."

He shrugs again as his brother grasps his hands and looks at them like they could be hurt. He just lets it happen, rebelling in the sweet fluffy feeling that radiates in his chest.

"I..." Diego doesn't finish but instead pulls on his hand. He shrugs the hand off and points to Allison’s room.

Diego narrows his eyes and shakes his head. "You don't want to get a lecture from her too do you?" He rolls his eyes and starts to walk. He wants to hang out with Allison, lecture or no lecture.

Diego grasps his arm with a bruising grip and pulls him back. "No," his brother tells him with bite to his voice.

He pulls on his arm and narrows his eyes at his brother. The sweet worrying is suddenly not so sweet. 

His brother pulls back even harder and he actually stumbles into him. "You don't need her," Diego whispers to him as he presses a hand against his back. 

He growls against Diego, the noise causes his brother to let go of him. He glares and knocks his hand off before going into his own room and shutting it.

Stupid stupid stupid.

He lands on his bed and rubs his arm. It hurts, tears prick his eyes as a sudden sting radiates from the area he's rubbing. It'll probably bruise.

Diego is a jerk, like always.

————————————————————

He has another brown smoothie for dinner but it tastes significantly less disgusting. It actually has a somewhat chocolatey taste which he actually likes. Diego looked at him sadly and apologetically but he just looked away.

After dinner, He slipped into his pajamas easily. Much more easily than his suit because the pajamas are loose-fitting and stretchy. They are comfortable and breathy so he prefers them more than the suits.

He lays in bed, staring at the ceiling as moonlight cools his skin and his anger. He tries to forget the glare his brother gave him, that grip that held him was bruising and brought fear into his heart. It was scary...it is still scary to think about.

His door creaks open and he closes his eyes, pretending to sleep. The floorboards creak and protest as someone walks inside. The person sits beside him and the bed dips.

He opens his eyes, confused, only to see Diego. Of course, it's Diego. 

"I'm sorry about earlier...I didn't mean it."

He looks at the ceiling, tracing each line and crack before grasping his brother's hand and squeezing gently. Trying to tell him it's fine, he's not mad anymore. He's only got a little bruise and it'll go away.

"I'm just worried about you."

He knows and it hurts.

"I'm so sorry."

He nods and makes a noise of acceptance. Diego loosens and gives a soft smile. "Good night," he tells him before slapping his chest, lightly and playfully. He leaves and gives him a few glances behind his shoulder.

He turns over and tries to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and simple build up and plot since that’s the most vital part of any story. I’m hoping the next chapter is much longer and gets the story really rolling.

He isn't exactly okay right now, not that he was ever really okay. It's just hard to communicate without words and it's frustrating to not add in his two cents in where ever he likes. This might be a good thing to his siblings but to him it's Hell.

"You look so precious like this," Allison coos to him with a twinkle in her eye. "You remind me of a wounded puppy!" She grabs his cheeks, gently, and squeezes them.

He glares at her but she just giggles at his discomfort. Maybe Diego was right, maybe he really doesn't want to see Allison. "Don't be like that," she says to him, making her voice high like she's talking to a baby. "Who's my good boy?"

He bats her hand away and looks at her wall in defiance. That is where he draws the line, being treated like he's a dog, her puppy dog. That's Luther's role and he wants no part in it.

She tugs on his sleeve while casting her own puppy eyes at him, he just keeps on looking at the wall, staring holes into it. "Hey...I didn't mean it," she tries to backtrack and he sighs internally.

He looks back and gives a shrug. He's always the one being picked at and he's always the first one the forgive, that is his role and it seems like it'll never change.

"I'll help you to breakfast," she offers him and he gives her a nod.

————————————————————

Diego gives him half-lidded stares at the breakfast table. It's strange, the way his eyes seem to be locked on his every movement. He tries to shake it off, act like he's fine, but he's not.

It's uncomfortable.

He drinks his rotten shake and is glad for the medication that it contains. Just the numbing sensation that follows each sip is enough to make his brother's staring less creepy and annoying.

His mother walks by and ruffles Diego's hair. Diego blushes at the affection and goes back to eating his breakfast.

————————————————————

He thought he'd be free after breakfast because his father took Luther out for training. But, no. He's still being stalked by Diego, each time he takes a step, each time he turns a corner, he feels his brother's eyes and all he can do is silently suffer.

It comes to a boiling point, he just can't take it anymore. He turns around and marches to his brother who hides behind a wall. Diego looks at him in confusion but he pushes on his chest and gives his best glare.

_Go away_

He wishes he could speak because he doubts Diego really understands him.

"I'm just-" he pushes on his chest again, harder, glaring as if his eyes could melt Diego. Diego finally sighs and gives him a sad smile. "S-sorry," he stutters in a low voice to him and all he can do is stand there, finger against Diego's chest, and feel bad.

He drops his hand and looks down, still angry yet...guilty. It's hard to accept that his brother is doing this because he cares...it's so hard to accept because Diego never cared before. Maybe he doesn't now, maybe it's all a trick, a joke, a prank...after all Diego did just give him a bruise yesterday.

"Are...Are you st-still angry?"

He looks at Diego, at the sad look in his eyes, as if he's close to breaking down into tears. He shakes his head and tells himself it's better like this.

Diego grins then and wraps a hand around him before pulling him in for a hug. His embrace is tight, warm, it makes him feel protected, then he feels something snake around his neck and he goes stiff.

His brother pulls away and snaps the thing around his neck. He looks down, expecting something terrible, only to be greeted by a whistle on a chain. He tilts his head at Diego in confusion.

"If anything ever happens...and you need me, just whistle," his brother tells him while gently touching the whistle. Diego brings it up to his mouth and prods his lips. "Here, try it."

He doesn't know why this interaction, this thing that was supposed to be caring in nature, filled his stomach with so much dread. He blows on the whistle and ignores the subtle pain, it's nothing when he's so numb.

A small piercing sound erupts from the whistle and it hurts his ears and makes Diego's eyes light up. "See? Just use this and I'll come running," his brother tells him...without stuttering.

It's a strange, uncomfortably dry feeling that surrounds him, them, while they stand there and stare at each other. He nods, slowly, hoping his brother leaves him alone because it's starting to be weird.

His brother drops the whistle gives his head a pat before walking away.

————————————————————

He visits Ben later, late at night, while Ben is reading the last chapter of his book. He lays beside Ben, just needing someone to talk to about Diego.

He writes down on his notebook and shoves it towards Ben, completely intruding on Ben's personal time. 

'I think something is wrong with Diego,' he tells Ben and his brother seems to struggle to read his writing with only the moonlight. 

"Why?"

'He keeps following me and treating me like I'm a little kid.' He tells his brother, shoving the notebook again in his face. Ben squints his eyes as he reads his messy writing, he sighs when he finishes.

"He's just worried about you...we all were. You could've died."

He let the words sink in, as he sits there, as he grasps the whistle against his chest. He could've died. It's only natural for Diego to be so worried now right?

Ben returns to reading, uninterested in keeping the conversation going. He understands and simply gives Ben a little wave as he lets him have all the alone time he wants.

He goes back to his room, slowly, dreading getting a lecture from one of his siblings or his father, that would be terrible. He just needs to rest and heal up so he can should Diego he’s okay, he doesn’t need all the worrying.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> |Non-Con ahead|
> 
> Well Diego is just going off the deep end you know? I wish I would have written this from Diego’s point of view but alas I didn’t, so none of the sad stuff really comes across so it’s just straight up non con. Rip. Anyway there’s some more world building too and all that good stuff.
> 
> I’ll be on later to really clean up the typos so until then my apologies~

At some point in the night he wakes up, the time isn't important, in fact, nothing is important. It's all just ordinary. The moonlight pooling in his room, the slightest smell of burning firewood drifts around him, and he hears a slight cutting or ripping sound, he doesn't care either way. It's so far off and distant that it doesn't even bother him. He just rolls over and falls back to sleep.

He wakes up a few hours later, with his door cracked open, light pouring inside his room, and voices whispering outside his door. He just stares at his door, squinting his eyes as the light blinds him and he gets the feeling today is a bad day.

But it really isn't. The light is an annoyance sure but it's much more tolerable than dead people...he hasn't seen any of those as of late. Which is a blessing, a god-given one, and he can't help but bask in the silence.

There was never an abundance of the dead, at least not at home, but he could never go a day without seeing one or two. He wonders why he hasn't, it isn't like he's lucky enough to lose his powers. Is it because he's numb? Is it because he's on so much medication right now?

He wonders.

He sits upright and looks at the morning dew coating his window. He smiles and gives his hair a soft tug. He should be more positive, it's going to be a good day, it should be, he hasn't had many of those.

A few more whispers start to pour in and he decides to get up, he isn't one to miss gossip after all. He yawns as he opens his door, blinking a few times as his eyes adjust to the light.

He steps outside, only one step and his feet touch something fluffy, soft, but so unnatural that he stumbles backward from pure surprise. He catches himself on his desk and stares at the siblings in the hall, the ones who haven't noticed him yet, then he lets his eyes drift down to the thing on the floor. His heartbeats and then it stops.

It's fluff, real white fluff, the kind he would expect to find in his pillow if he were to look inside. He blushes and walks out into the hallway, bashing himself internally for getting worked up over something so childish.

Everyone is whispering to each other, in low, tired voices. They peer into Diego's room and shake their heads.

"What was he thinking?" Luther asks Allison, his voice sounds strange like this, soft and smooth. Allison gives him a shrug as she crosses her hands across her chest, almost protectively.

"It's...scary," she finally mutters to him, looking away from the room with a frown.

"Scary? Don't you mean idiotic?" Five snips, his eyes already rolling as he turns away from the room, allowing him to notice his presence. "Oh look who decided to get out of bed," Five says to him, a small glint in his eyes.

He narrows his eyes at Five and wishes he could do more, like tell him to shove it or get a life. "Must be hard keeping your mouth shut," Five teases him as Luther turns his attention to them.

"Oh," Luther blurts out before covering his mouth with his hand, hiding a laugh. "Diego really got you to wear that?" Luther grasps the whistle and tugs, a stupid grin etches its way across his mouth. 

He bats Luther's hand away and glares.

"Doesn't matter much now," Five said, fixing his collar while giving him a condescending look. "Diego's so far into the dog house that the whistle won't do you good," he smooths the collar before walking away, into his room.

He looks towards Luther with a tilt to his head, kinda like the way a dog looks towards a human for food, but he doesn't know any other way to ask what Five means. Luther's smugness seems to disappear, melt away with almost no trace of it remaining.

"I'm surprised you didn't hear Father this morning," Luther said sadly before gesturing into Diego's room. "I doubt he's going to live this down soon, this...episode."

He walks through Luther and Allison, holding his breath as he goes, afraid of what he's going to see. Diego's door is ajar, and small pieces of white fluff are spewing from his room. He slowly grasps the door handle, he pulls so very slowly because he just doesn't know what to expect.

It's a crime scene, that's the best way to describe it. Fluff lays everywhere, from one side of the room to the other, along with foam pieces that all just remind him of blood. In the middle, Diego's bed lays there, gutted, along with his pillows. His blankets and sheets are all torn and ripped in various places while simultaneously scattered across the room.

It's an absolute crime scene.

He looks back toward Allison and Luther in horror, it's all he can do really. He doesn't understand why Diego would do this but...it leaves him feeling uneasy. It's not like Diego at all.

Allison looks towards him with that same horror and Luther looks away without much of an emotion. Behind them, Ben wanders out of his room with bed head and a yawn. He stops upon seeing them and looks at them in a questioning manner. 

Luther looks to Allison and they have a battle of stares, deciding who gets to explain to Ben. Allison wins, like always.

————————————————————

At breakfast, his father and Diego are missing, and although it was to be expected it's still uncomfortable. He sits there, sipping his nasty milkshake, and just watches Luther and Allison whisper. Five writes down something on a sheet of paper, then he teleports to Vanya and sometimes Luther to tell them something, then he's back in his seat like he never left.

Ben reads his book and keeps to himself like a good boy, like he always is. Ben's never had much of a rebellious bone, in the slightest, he's so obedient sometimes that it's like he really is a dog. Not in the way Luther is, not at all.

He sighs to himself, internally, hating that he's finally got an ounce of freedom and his jaw is broken so he can't even enjoy it. He wraps his hand around the whistle and pulls until it snaps, he drops it on the table and simply leaves it there for his mother to throw away. What trash...he's not two years old, he doesn't need a babysitter, definitely not Diego when he's going through some late rebellious phase.

He ruffles his hand in his shirt and gives Vanya a glance. She's picking at her food, her eyes cast downwards, and her body posture is drawn inward as if she's trying to make herself seem small.

He decides she could use some attention, more because he's bored then he really cares. It's not like he hates her, because he doesn't, but his father always keeps her so far away from them that it's hard to find time to hang out with her, definitely when half his siblings look down at it too.

It's peer pressure really, why no one ever really hangs out with her aside from Five. Five who's rebelliousness is more than he could ever manage. Rebelliousness is one thing but...the way Five does it is just asking for death.

————————————————————

"Does it hurt?" Vanya asks him, tilting her head sadly, her posture exuding concern for him although he doesn't deserve it. Not from her, not after all the times he's ignored her or pushed her aside in favor of his other siblings.

He wishes he could apologize, he does, but he knows it would never sound sincere because it'll just keep happening. An unbreakable cycle of heartache is all that would accomplish. So he doesn't, not even if he had his notebook right, he wouldn't.

He nods yes and her hand extends outwards, her hand almost going to touch him, then she stops just short. 

"Can...I-"

He nods.

Her soft palm lands on his cheek and her fingertips glide across his skin. "I'm sorry," she tells him, although he has no idea what for, it isn't like he fell because of her. He fell because of his own stupidity.

She moves closer to him on her bed, it dips with the movement and she just brings her other hand up to his opposite cheek. She gives a few more rubs while he just sits there, basks in it. Then it hits him that he doesn't hate it, not at all, not like he does when Diego does it.

That's it isn't it? The fact that Vanya has always had this motherly way about her, a soft way she went about things, that's what makes this feel so natural, so comfortable. Diego is nothing like that, at least he never used to be, but maybe he's decided he wants to be a better brother.

He wonders about so many things these days, he does, and now he wonders if he was wrong to trash the whistle. Diego is going to be so upset, probably stutter and yell at him.

Guilt floods him hard and Vanya sees it, her eyes shift, her gaze turning into more concerned he wasn't sure anyone possessed. "Are you going to be alright?" She asks him so quietly that he's half convinced she didn't even hear herself speak.

He nods, lies right to her, because if she apologizes for one more thing that isn't her fault he's going to be hit with even more guilt and he can't handle that right now. He gives her a smile, tries his best to act like everything is fine as he grasps her shoulders and pushes, turning her around so her back is facing him.

He begins to braid her hair, one strand at a time. She stays silent as his hands weave through her silky straight hair and he's glad for the silence.

————————————————————

He decides to make the most of his time without his father around to tell him what not to do. He's overbearing, always overbearing in the worse ways, but that's beside the point. 

He just needs to distract himself, he can't think about Diego, about the torture he's going through right now, because somehow he feels as if this might be his fault. It's not, he knows, but still, the thought lingers in the back of his mind every time he doesn't feel eyes on him, every time he's so utterly alone.

He goes to the attic and coughs from the dust, the kind that just seemed to accumulate in layers despite their mother's regular cleaning of the place. He hates it, the way it stifles the air in his lungs and makes the room seem so stiff.

He goes to the few boxes scattered in the attic, the ones that have been sitting there for months, years perhaps, he can't even remember the first time he noticed them and felt that primal urge to tear into them, to find out what is in those boxes. He smiles to himself as goes over to the first one and he rubs his hands together as if preparing himself.

The tape is old and easily peels off, giving his heart less time to start beating in his lungs, but it does anyway. Inside are a few old nick-nacks, an old vase, a tin container that reminds him of a lunch box, a golden container that he would probably put gravy in, except he thinks traditionally a genie might inhabit it. He rubs it experimentally, and nothing happens, as he expected.

He almost wants to laugh, but he doesn't, he contains it. He instead uses his energy to push the box away before moving to another one. He takes a deep breath before starting to open it, already his excitement has begun to die out. If all these boxes are just nick-nacks...what's the point in going through them all?

Inside this box is an album, one covered in disgustingly yellow and pink flowers, almost like it just jumped off an old woman’s wallpaper. He takes it out of the box and places it on his lap before opening it...and it's them. It's a family photo album made no doubtably by one of their old nannies, the ones who always saw them as one big family unit although their father had said time and time again that they aren't.

His father doesn’t even like being called Dad...not that it stops anyone from doing so.

He flips through the album, it hits him with nostalgia. Little Luther and Little Five, they were cute, so alike, yet even at a time like this when they were mere toddlers they are showed different mindsets. In the simple way they looked towards their father, the way their eyebrows furrowed.

It's strange to think about but they do look alike, at least when they were so small. He sighs and flips the page and is greeted by a big picture of Diego, little Number Two, shying away behind...him.

He's standing there with a stupid grin behind his face and then there's Diego hiding behind his back. His brother used to be so shy, he hated speaking, hated the terrible stuttering although everyone thought it was adorable. Although their father did ridicule him on it sometimes, it wasn't ever a serious problem but he hated it with a passion.

Now that their mother helped Diego overcome it he's felt the need to be some strong man...but underneath all that he's still that shy little boy that used to hide behind his back. It makes him smile and his heart flutters with warmth.

He shuts the album, unable to take it, the hard nostalgia that brings tears to his eyes...someday he'll have to come see the rest of the album, and bring his siblings along too.

————————————————————

He comes down from the attic, wiping his eyes and shaking the dust from his bones. He doesn't expect anything to change since he's been gone, and nothing has. He walks back to his room, grabs a change of clothes, and goes to get a bath.

He does so because no one is around to tell him too many bathes is unhealthy or walk in on him, intentionally. He starts the bathwater, runs it nice and hot, and then gets in and soaks like he always does.

It's nice, it's relaxing, but his jaw starts to ache and he gets weird thoughts that gnaw at him...like perhaps he doesn't see dead people right now because of that dull pain. He ignores the thought after he hears himself think it because he recognizes that it's toxic...at least he thinks it is.

————————————————————

He walks back to his room, happy, relaxed, feeling normal for once. His face is flushed red, water is dripping down from his hair onto his neck, and his suit clings uncomfortably stiff to his body. He opens his door and is greeted by Diego.

Diego who is placing a pillow on his bed, Diego who is sporting bruises on his face and his hands. Diego who looks towards him with an aura of sadness.

He stares, unable to say a single word. Diego just looks away with a sad laugh, "Don't ask," his brother tells him, just playing with his shirt. "Mind if I...I cra-crash with...with you?" He asks with so much stuttering that his face turns red and it just looks pitiful. 

He nods no, knowing full well that if he didn't let his brother stay he'd be an awful person. Diego's eyes light up and he smiles, walking forward, then he just stops as his eyes catch on something.

"What did you do with the whistle..." his brother’s voice is so timeless that it sounds like a statement and not a question. 

He swallows and shrugs.

Diego stays silent but his eyes scream hurt.

————————————————————

They go to dinner together, and he can't help but see the way his father's face stays so still, moving. He's angry and looks as if he hasn't worked all that out despite taking Diego out all day.

He drinks his milkshake, it tastes good, unlike his morning one, and he actually likes it. It's a fast dinner, whether it's because their father was in no mood for it or just the fact that he was content to drink his milkshake is beyond him. 

It just felt like one minute he was at the dinner table and the next minute he is walking back to his bed. He gets dressed in his pajamas while Diego does the same, he climbs into bed when he's done and sticks his teddy bear on his side so when Diego got in bed it'd be between them.

He sits there, warmth starting to pool underneath the sheets, and he feels a sense of discomfort, just from the fact that he isn't sure that their father Okayed this and he really doesn't want to get a lecture. Diego climbs in beside him though, looking so sad, and feeling so cold that he just can't bring himself to say anything, even though his notebook is so close.

Diego closes his eyes, breathes lightly, and doesn't say anything to him. 

He stares at Diego, at all the bruises, and he can't help but feel so bad. He wants to ask how he got them, what happened, did their father do this? He knows it's better not to prod any sore subjects so he doesn't, he leaves the subject be unless Diego himself brings it up...which he probably won't,

So he'll never know, he goes to sleep knowing that. He doesn't really dream, at least he usually doesn't, and if he does he rarely remembers, but tonight he dreams big.

He dreams that he's on an alien space ship, not in it, on top of it. Just standing on its gray exterior, looking down at the earth with curiosity, as if it's the first time he's ever seen the plant. Then his feet slide to the edge, and he thinks about jumping, somehow it just sounds so good.

So he does.

He jumps off the spaceship, he goes from being on top of the world to falling to rock bottom without anything to catch him. He falls and keeps falling, his body somehow growing warmer, and at some point, he just closes his eyes and acts as if he isn't falling, it's easier this way.

He jolts awake though, can't help that his heart is beating so much. He breathes heavily and it takes him a moment to really see his surroundings but it does come to him. He's staring at his wall, moonlight slowly trickles in across his face, and his back is so warm.

It isn't until he tries to move, tries to roll over to avoid the moonlight, that he realizes there's a hand around his waist and the warmth is Diego's body pushed against his. 

At first, it doesn't alarm him. It's just his brother, it's just an accident, it's just a silly misunderstanding. Then Diego whispers against his neck, so close and warm that it gives him goosebumps down his body.

"Klaus," His brother snuggles in closer to him, pushing himself against him, and it starts to happen. Dread fills his stomach and travels through his body.

This is nothing, this doesn't mean anything.

"Klaus," his brother says again, closer to him, his hips rubbing against him. Through Diego's thin pajamas he can feel it, his Dick, hard and so very warm that it makes him sick to his stomach.

He can't move, he can't say a thing, and he's just stuck there unsure of what he should do. If he should make a noise, alert Diego that he's awake and hope his brother turns around and backs off. Or maybe that's not the right move, he isn't sure, because without being able to speak he feels so trapped there.

Unable to ask his brother what he's doing. Unable to see if this is just an accident. Unable to say the words he needs to, to tell his brother to stop doing that.

"Klaus," His brother repeats to him, his hips moving in circle against him, and all he can do is stare at the wall, wet his mouth, and hope that making a sound isn't the wrong move because he isn't sure.

This doubt that is bubbling in his stomach isn't a foreign feeling but it's strange nonetheless...because in a situation like this there should be no doubt...but there is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I leave off on a cliff hanger...yes, yes I did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pure NonCon so be weary! I haven’t had any proper time to correct any typos so my apologies until I can fix them tomorrow.

He makes a small noise, so small and distant-sounding that he's sure Diego won't even pay attention to it. At first Diego stills, goes so still and rigid behind him and it starts to hit him with guilt...when Diego starts to tremble. In a way, like he's a wounded dog, like he's just been kicked or something.

He feels so guilty even though he knows this isn't something to feel guilty about.

"Klaus?" Diego said his name again, so shaky that it hurts to hear. 

He taps his brother's hand a few times, the one that had gone rigid around his waist, the hand is removed from him. He flips around to face his brother, to face the result, to face Diego with pink tinting his cheeks.

Disgusting

He hates it because it just confirms his brother was really doing it on purpose right? That he just decided to rub against him like he's just a pillow because he's so defenseless right now...

So filthy

The thoughts don't sit well with him at all and he just wants to tell Diego, talk to him, make sure this isn't what he thought it was, but his notebook is on his nightstand and that means he'd have to crawl over Diego to get to it. He doesn't, he just can't, his skin crawls with a mix of disgust and guilt.

On one hand, he gets it, the natural kinda urge, but he hasn't even gotten an apology yet. Diego is blushing sure but he doesn't look sorry, not at all. So, on the other hand, he's guilty, guilty that maybe it started while Diego was sleeping, it was just an unconscious thing and Diego is just as disgusted as he is.

He doesn't know because Diego is staying so scarily silent. It just gives him weird vibes, like each time Diego breathes he just remembers how the warmth consumed his back and the fact that he felt it, his brother's erection.

This situation would be so much better if he could talk, if he could just joke it off, but he can't so he's trapped in the embarrassment. This is so stupid, If Diego didn't go on his little rebellious rampage this would have never happened. A thought sparks in him, one he doesn't want to listen to.

Did Diego do that to his room...just so he could sleep with him? His brother wouldn't right? But did he? It's a real possibility, right?

Or is he overthinking everything?

He isn't sure but Diego's silence is really getting to him. The way his mouth is ajar, his lips glistening pink, his pupils keep dilated- and it hits him. The blanket around Diego's waist keeps moving, and he can hear when he stops thinking, when he really listens he can hear the squelching sound Diego's hand is making each time he strokes himself.

Diego is touching himself

Right there beside him, his brother is doing something so...disgusting. It isn't, it never used to be, but right now he just can't get the thought out of his head. It's so overwhelmingly gross that he wiggles backward until back hits the wall and he cringes.

Diego immediately stops, his face turning even redden and then a sad smile begins to spread across his lips. "You don't understand," his brother tells him, his hand snaking its way from underneath the covers, his fingertips glisten from the moonlight.

He turns away, cringes even harder as his brother tries to touch him. It hurts him, hurts so much when he's forced to bat away his brother's hand because he just can't.

It isn't the time, he isn't in the mood for this. He's always the first to have crazy ideas, to do stupid shit, to not have any care about skeletons in the closest but...he just can't, not with this. Something about this is different, even if he can't put his finger on why.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, calming himself. This is fine, everything is fine.

"You don't have to be so shy..." His brother whispers so quietly to him.

He cringes again and shakes his head. He isn't shy, this is gross. It's making him uncomfortable...but he can't tell Diego that.

His brother presses his disgusting hand on his shoulder, pressing him down against the bed while simultaneously smearing pre-cum on his shirt. He tenses up underneath his brother and just stares up at him like he's crazy.

Diego doesn't seem to notice. "Klaus," his voice wavers as it flows from his lips. "Don't look at me like this," Diego rubs his cheek so gently, like he's made of glass. "It's okay if you don't understand...I'll teach you."

He shakes his head and glares at Diego. He pushes on his chest and makes a noise of disapproval. This joke has gone too far.

Diego doesn't move an inch, his expression just turns sad. He almost seems to be disappointed but that doesn't stop him from pressing his hips against his, digging his erection into his manhood.

It's so uncomfortable and he gets these terrible goosebumps up his back. He can't say anything. He can't tell Diego to stop, he can't scream for help, he can't even though Diego is scaring him.

The way Diego look down upon him with hunger...and speaks to him like...he wants him to want this. That isn't right. Diego would never do something so filthy.

His brother rubs his erection against his dick again and he can't help the way he instinctively jolts in discomfort. He shoves at Diego, his breathing picks up, and all he can do is stare wide-eyed at his brother.

"Don't be so shy," His brother says, leaning in closer, suffocating him with his presence. It's crazy, absolutely insane, somehow his brother sees his fear and discomfort as him just being shy. How? What's wrong with him?

His brother grasps his cheeks beneath his palm and pushes his lips against his in one movement. He tenses up so much that it hurts and his muscles ache and all he can do is feel so useless.

He can't fight back, not when he's so numb and Diego hovers over him like this, using his weight to subdue him. It's becoming horrifying, the way Diego leans back and licks his lips like he's just eaten a good meal.

"You need to let off some steam right? That's why you're so moody."

He shakes his head again and again but his brother seems to see none of it. "It's okay, I don't mind," Diego tells him as he dips a hand underneath the covers and rubs over his dick, limp. He whines and throws his head to the side.

"Shhhh," Diego shushes him as he slips his hand into his boxers, rubbing over his dick as it begins to twitch with interest. His own body disgusts him. Why is it doing that? Why when it's Diego that's touching him? How filthy.

He wishes he could scream and yell at Diego but all he can manage is whining and growling. His brother doesn't seem to register either as a real threat.

Diego's hand slips into his boxer's now, grasping his now hardened erection. Small, soft, still not very stable, but he strokes and rubs around the sensitive head. "Doesn't it feel good?"

He shakes his head as tears pool in his eyes. It's disgusting so fucking filthy that he just can't handle it. He leans up and in one motion head butts Diego.

His brother yelps and stumbles back some and that gives him time to get off the bed. A hand grasps his shirt though and he's yanked backward and he slips and falls on the floor. Diego climbs over him and sits on his lap, keeping him from escaping.

Blood drips down from Diego's nose and a few droplets land on his face. "That wasn't very nice," Diego's hand pushes into his boxers and he rubs his erection quickly, roughly, and he keeps squeezing it tightly, making it hurt.

He whimpers and looks away as his backaches and the pain becomes too much. He sobs so hard that his jaw starts to hurt all over again.

Why doesn't Diego understand how disgusting this feels? Why can't Diego see how much he's hurting him?

He flicks his head back as Diego's fingers circle his head again and his erection begins to tingle. He can't do this, he can't make him do this.

"Klaus," Diego says softly, his stroking becoming more steady and soft, considerably less harsh. It starts to feel good, little tingles of pleasure radiate and not even his sobs are enough to derail his pleasure for peaking.

He cums into Diego's hand with disgust riddling the air that he breathes and the skin on his body. He can't even feel anything anymore. It's all tainted.

"See? Don't you feel so much better?"

No, no he doesn't. He presses his hands over his eyes and cries until his throat starts to feel scratchy and Diego tugs his hands again. "It's okay Klaus, I won't judge you."

He tosses his head away and refuses to look at his brother as he forced up. His brother guides him back to bed before laying beside him. A satisfied smile weaves its way on to his brother's lips and he can't help that his blood runs cold.

It is enough to churn his stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short I’ve been completely drowning in work.

He awakes to what sounds like an ravenous animal digging through his stuff. But he's never quite heard that's sound so of course it's all based on his imagination, still, it sounds eerily similar. He cracks one eye open and scans his room, only stopping when it lands on Diego digging through his stuff frantically.

Diego throws things here and there in his search for something. What that thing is doesn't matter. What matters is he's doing this to his room, after what he just did last night.

The thought makes his blood boil and he wants to scream at Diego. All he wants to do is tell Diego what a sick bastard he is and how disgusting he made him feel, and he would if he could talk, if he could scream those words until his throat went numb, but as he stares at his notebook, he doesn't think the words would have the same effect.

His brother starts digging underneath his bed now and his eyes start to look panicked. They dilate again and again as he digs through his stuff like the air for his lungs laid inside. 

He doesn't care right now. He's too busy being pissed and disgusted, rightfully so. It wasn't even the...interaction that was bad. 

It wasn't that he touched him or that he kissed his lips. Sure it was disgusting, it made his skin crawl because it was Diego, his brother, but it wasn't like those actions are completely out of the ordinary at least the kissing part. Sometimes his brothers want someone to practice on...not that he's ever asked to very often.

It was the fact that Diego didn't listen, didn't care that he cried and said no. His brother didn't care that he didn't want it. Not at all. And that's more terrifying than anything he's ever experienced.

He bites his tongue and flinches when a metallic taste feels his mouth. Blood starts to swim and pool within him and he just sits there and takes it. The pain is nothing compared to the heartache.

Diego's digging stops and he just sits there, staring at something in his hands. Then his brother, not even knowing he's awake yet, holds the thing against his chest. He conceals the item and walks out of the room, stealing whatever it is.

He really doesn't care anymore.

He flips around in bed and closes his eyes. He can't sleep more, sleeping in is unproductive...his father will surely come and drag him out of bed and give him something mundane to do. Yet, he just can't bring himself to get out of bed.

He twists and turns, digs his dull bitten down nails into his sheets and just can't get everything to stop being too much. His heart, these feelings of confusion and discomfort that continue to wrap around his body, leaving marks and bruises on his fragile skin.

He wishes he could understand what Diego was thinking. What had gotten into him? What would possess him to do something like that? The same kind of thing they often heard about in the news and it's made even worse because they're brothers. Brothers who are supposed to look out for each other and love each other...not in that way.

Yet...Diego does doesn’t he? Is that what this means? How can he expect him to understand that?

There's a knock on his door and he doesn't feel like looking. So he doesn't.

"Number Four," His father calls his name with malice, clearly ticked that he's still in bed and ignoring him. These are things bad children did.

He sighs and turns over, feeling his jaw ache and a little groan tumbles from his lips.

His father stands there, disgust on his face, and Ben by his side. "Number Six will be sharing your room for the time being," His father tells him straight to the point and even when he gives him a look of confusion his father doesn't answer.

"Do you have a problem with this?"

He stares for a while, knowing yes isn't an answer he finally nods no. "Good," his father mutters, walking away with a slight slew of words underneath his breath. 

Ben walks inside with a sigh before sitting down beside him slightly. It's awkward, his brother says nothing, and for what it's worth he isn't in a mood to talk even if he could.

It's been a long time since they shared a room. Since Ben had one-side and he the other, since Ben had tentacles that came out of his chest that scared everyone else away, and he himself had nightmares that forced him to seek warmth.

It's been a long them since they've been brothers. Since they've leaned on each other for support because their father deemed them too old to share a room. Yet here they are, no explanation given, sharing a room again.

Ben stands and starts to clear a corner of his room. Ben doesn't have any emotions, he's not upset, he's not irritated, he's nothing. Just a blank slate their father writes on for his amusement.

"Luther will probably bring my bed back in here," Ben tells him, not looking at him, avoiding him with a passion.

Gives a slight nod although he's still confused. Why? Why would their father allow this after all those years?

Could it be...that his father knows what Diego did? It makes his blood run cold, turn to ice in his veins and he can't help but wish he were dead because he can't think of anything worse.

His father knowing that Diego did something like that. His father knowing how disgusting he is. And his father...his father knowing but doing nothing.

Just avoiding the problem with a useless tactic like this. Forcing Diego out and Ben in as if that could change everything and make it all better.

It doesn't. He still feels so fucking filthy that at any moment he could barf. Ben for what it's worth, doesn't notice how pale he gets and that his hands won't stop shaking. 

He wishes so much that he could just forget it, everything, but all he can hear is Diego telling him he's just shy. But he isn't, that wasn't the problem at all. His brother must be crazy, that's it right?


End file.
